Be mine,
He said, but I, reluctant, turned away
And blindly ran, and furious from his face
So he waited, and he watched and he called from far behind…Be mine. Be mine.
Faintly I discerned it through the party noise and wineBe mine. I still love you, Valentine.
And I drowned it out with music and everything was fine
for my head no longer echoed withBe mine... Be mine... Be mine...

Then a crash...a terrible quietness... the silence was sublime!
All I had for hearing was the snorting of the swine
And the seconds madly ticking as they counted out the time
Then I wanted
Then I waited
Then I missed
Then I listened

Though it seemed a desperate chance
my life was on the line
and I thought I heard a shadow of a voice that saidBe mine
A voice that seemed so distant it was difficult to find
Yet I made the desperate journey
Cowed before his holy face
He was Justice. I was Crime

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

I'm not complaining about the clouds, mind you.I'm not unappreciative of the wind and the shade. Nor do I mind the gorgeous shards of white and gray created by the sun's poking around trying to find a way through the swirls of cloud that cover the entire dome of sky.

Monday, September 20, 2010

For many weeks I scrubbed it, that spot so white, so dead.
I told myself it couldn't be, but then the patches spread.
The doctors gasped; I found myself alone outside the city;
I wept as people watched in fear, their loathing mixed with pity.
Alone I begged beside the path where once I'd proudly walked; They threw me little scraps of bread, but no one stayed to talk.
I missed their touch, my son's small hand, my father on my arm, my wife--If she should get it too--"Unclean! Stand Back!" "Alarm!"

I waited...and I wearied...I'd forgotten how to pray.
I grew cynical and surly, and I dreaded every day
One evening brought two hurried men; I heard their tattered speech: "He's meddlesome...he'd better leave...he angers all the priests.He breaks the sabbath, quotes the scripture as if it were his own,Talks to sinners...and touches things that were better left alone."

At a distance in the evening gray, I saw them all outlined,
a dozen rushing far ahead, and a weary one behind.
I dared not think. I only ran, with a burst of speed that drained me,
feet tearing on the jagged rocks; but nothing would restrain me.
Then in the dust beside the road I crumpled overcome,
I bled unclean upon the path. To what depths had I plunged?
I heard my own heart throbbing, then footsteps on the path.
I covered my head to shield it from the traveler's certain wrath.

Footsteps tired...slowing....stopping. I dared not face the man.
I just cried "If you are willing....Sir I know, I know you can."
Then I felt it. His hand upon me. "I am willing. You are clean."
He had touched me. I was human. I was not a thing obscene.

He had touched me! The untouchable!"Show the priests that you are well.""Don't tell anyone who healed you."
But of course....I had to tell.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Every now and then I like to respond to one of Mad Kane's Limerick Prompts. Her latest challenge is giving a first line and asking readers to finish it. This week it was: "There's a fellow who loves his caffeine..." Here's my entry.